


13 : 16

by taketheblanket



Series: Ring of Keys [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Genderswap, M/M, Pre-Slash, collection of drabbles, dfab gladio, dfab noctis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 12:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11577666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taketheblanket/pseuds/taketheblanket
Summary: Noctis turns thirteen and begins combat training with Gladiolus after school.





	13 : 16

Noctis has always wanted to learn how to fight. 

The only child of a widowed King, not a day goes by that some member of the court doesn’t find it necessary to remind her... 

“Lucis has never had a  _ queen _ before.” 

“If you weren’t already Chosen, I imagine the King would try for a son.” 

“It’s a dangerous world for a girl.”

She  _ knows _ . They don’t need to tell her. But they do tell her,  _ constantly _ .

“We’ll have to take this in,” the tailor says. “I always forget how slim you are.” 

“Eat some more,” Ignis says in the cafeteria. “You won’t grow if you don’t.” 

“Don’t you look delicate,” her father says, spinning her slowly in her dinner dress. 

Noctis sneers up at him and pulls her hand from his grasp. With every reminder of her gender, of her size, of her naturally gifted inadequacies, the desire to fist her hands in their clothes and throw their bodies to the ground gets stronger. She just doesn’t know  _ how to. _

“Noctis,” The King says, bending over to look his daughter in the face, a big hand wrapping firmly around her shoulder. “Today you are thirteen years old.” 

“I know,” Noctis says. “Happy birthday to me.” 

“Happy birthday to you,” Regis agrees. “Thirteen is an important age.” 

He’s using the King voice. Noctis crosses her arms over her chest, averting her eyes to the floor. Her father is, as usual, undeterred. 

“Life is going to get harder for you this year. Adolescence brings more responsibilities for the Heir Apparent.”

“I  _ know _ ,” Noctis sighs. 

“You will have a heavier course load, more tutoring sessions, you will begin to study the Crystal, Noctis, and you will learn how to fight.” 

Noctis’ attention snaps to her father then.  

“Do you remember Gladiolus? Clarus’ daughter?” 

Noctis nods. She remembers her. The tall teen with the long braided hair. They’re always at the same court events, but in the last few years Gladiolus has been sequestered away with the young adults while Noctis still has to hold the company of children. She sees her only in passing. Gladiolus is supposed to be her Shield someday, but has never spared a glance Noctis’ way. 

“When school begins next week, you are to report to the training center after your final class for combat training with Gladiolus.” 

“Everyday?”

“Everyday,” his father says surely. 

Noctis points her smile to the floor. 

-

She begins to feel anxious twenty feet out from the training center and it must be showing in her posture or the slowing of her steps because Ignis had walked with her, and as they get closer, he puts a hand on the center of her upper back like he thinks she might turn around and run. She huffs and shakes him off. 

Ignis walks her all the way inside and Gladiolus is hanging from a bar on the edge of the room, her back to them, grunting while she does rapid chinups. She doesn’t hear them enter and Ignis coughs loudly to announce their presence. 

She drops gracefully to the ground when she hears them. 

“Hey!” Gladiolus says. She shakes the adviser’s hand but she’s looks at the princess with open curiosity on her face. They study each other for a moment and it’s odd to be looking at each other like this. Noctis met several new teachers today, but Gladiolus is something different. Not just a teacher, they’re close in age, they’ve known each other’s families their whole lives, and today is the first day in what is supposed to be an entire life partnered together. 

Noctis and Gladio tear their eyes away from each other. Noctis looks at the floor, but as soon as Gladiolus’ attention is back on Ignis, she cannot help but stare up at the tree-like sixteen year-old. Noctis is still desperately waiting on a growth spurt, but Ignis has been getting taller in the last year and Gladiolus towers over even him. She knew Gladiolus was tall, she knows she’s short, and so she’s not sure what she was expecting, but still, she’s stunned into silence by the Amicitia’s appearance. 

They are exchanging a few words Noctis isn’t catching. She’s too distracted looking Gladiolus up and down. She’s shucked her uniform jacket and wears only her black cargo pants, a black sports bra and a grey tank top, dark under her arms and breasts where she’s soaked through it. Noctis’ face is on level with her bare arms crossed over her chest and she stares at the thick muscle that ropes over them up and to her shoulders before sliding her eyes up to Gladiolus’ face. One half of her head is shaved, covered in stubble, exposed by the way she secures her long hair in a braid to the side. She hides it in court, she must. Noctis is sure she would have noticed it. 

Her Shield. This woman is supposed to be her bodyguard and Noctis has never been granted this much of an opportunity to study her. She certainly looks the part, tough and composed. She knew there’d come a day where they’d be properly introduced, but now that it’s arrived, Noctis finds herself speechless and red in the face. 

“Noctis,” Ignis urges. 

Noctis is pulled from her daze, suddenly realizing Gladiolus is holding her hand out to shake. She takes it and Gladiolus gives her arm a yank. Noctis stumbles a step towards her and then recoils at how small the gesture made her feel. She folds in on herself and tries to tug the hem of her skirt down past her skinny knees. 

“She’s a little nervous,” Ignis apologizes. Noctis shoots him with a look. 

“Me too,” Gladiolus chuckles. “First thing first, though.”

She tosses Noctis a small duffle bag and she catches in the air. Inside it there is a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and a water bottle emblazoned with her family crest. 

“Let’s get you out of that skirt.” 

-

Noctis immediately feels better out of her school uniform. She loathes the skirt and had succeeded for years in only ever wearing dresses to only the most formal events. She hadn’t realized skirts were the only uniform option for girls at the normal high school and she had pitched such a fit to her father about being a normal teenager she wasn’t willing to admit any reluctance for the school now. Still, it had been a long, lonely day as the only princess in a class full of  _ normal _ girls that pointed and whispered and feeling uncomfortable and awkward in her clothes did nothing to help.  

She’s relieved to finally be here. Gladiolus will teach her how to fight and soon she’ll be able to make other people feel weak for once. She sighs at her reflection in the mirror and ties her shoulder length hair in a bun at the back of her neck. 

“What’s takin’ so long?” Gladiolus calls through the door. 

Noctis jumps, pressing her hand to her throat to feel her own pulse as it rushes and then steadies. 

“Coming,” she says. 

Gladiolus is waiting for her on the training mat, looking strong and intimidating with her wide-legged stance and and dark eyes locked on the princess. The Shield is commanding, not just in presence, but in her physical body too, in her thick thighs and bound chest and shorn scalp. Noctis approaches slowly, in awe, wondering if there's any chance of looking or feeling like  _ that _ in only three years time. 

“Any injuries?” She asks. 

“Back injury,” Noctis says. “Was almost five years ago, though.” 

“Hmm,” she says, frowning down at her. Her studious gaze begins to eat away at Noctis and she has to look at floor, shove her hands in her pockets. 

“Back injury means you need to stay on your feet,” Gladiolus muses. “Here,” she says, tossing a heavy padded vest Noctis’ way. “Put this on. You won’t get to wear pads forever, but until you get good at dodging, I’ll save you some pain.” 

Noctis shrugs into the heavy gear and already feels slow beneath it. Gladiolus puts an equally heavy wooden sword in her hands and Noctis stares down at the hilt of it in awe. 

“One hand,” Gladiolus explains, standing close behind her. Noctis repositions, grasping it tightly in her thin fingers, her eyes still locked on the place where her hand makes contact with the weapon.

“Makes you feel powerful, doesn’t it?” Gladiolus asks. 

Noctis nods without looking up. 

“Now,” she says, leaning over Noctis’ shoulder so she may whisper in her ear. “Try to stay on your feet.” 

“Huh?”

Noctis turns around to face Gladiolus but catches only a glimpse of the older teen swinging before the wooden sword slaps firmly against her stomach. Noctis goes flying backwards and bounces on her ass as she hits the mat. 

“Ow!” Noctis cries out when she manages to catch her breath. “Oww!” 

“Get up,” Gladiolus says, low and authoritative. Noctis scrambles to her feet, fetching her sword where it landed.

“Try to stay on your feet,” Gladiolus says again, and this time Noctis braces herself, her sword coming up in an instinctive attempt to protect herself from the blow. Gladiolus’ sword cracks against hers, but the power behind it is too much to bear, and Noctis goes tumbling to the mat once more. 

She rubs at a stinging, scraped elbow, glaring up at Gladiolus. 

“Not fair!” she gripes. 

Gladiolus makes a face of amusement at her. 

“Fighting isn’t fair. Get up.” 

Grumbling, Noctis climbs to her feet. 

Gladiolus swings and nails Noctis in the ribcage, sending the young teen spinning to the floor once more. Noctis moans from the mat and she can already feel a pinch of discomfort in her back. She squeezes her eyes against the tears that threaten to spill.

“Again,” Gladiolus commands.

Noctis rises, panting through the pain in her ribs. She glares at Gladiolus, her teeth bared. She is moments away from storming out of the room, telling her dad this isn’t going to work, but it would mean she has to give back the sword and at the moment, she cannot stand the idea of not having it in her hand. She squeezes it and sighs, raising it once more in her opponent’s direction. 

“As the Chosen One” Gladiolus says seriously. “You are going to have to fight against forces stronger than you. If you’re not  _ strong _ , you’d better be  _ smart _ .” 

Noctis winces, the words stinging more than the physical blows she dealt did. 

“Again,” Gladiolus says. “Stay on your feet.” 

Gladiolus dives for her and this time instead of trying to hold her back, Noctis lunges out of her way. She trips and lands on her knees, but manages to jump back to her feet. It’s a short worn victory. Gladiolus passes her sword into her other hand and takes Noctis down from the side she had dodged into. 

Noctis goes rolling onto the mat. She lands badly on her wrist and bites her tongue, but what actually does it is the sound of her sword as it goes clattering noisily away from her. Noctis crawls onto her hands and knees, hiding her face behind her hair as the tears she’s been fighting all day finally spill freely. 

“Again,” Gladiolus says. 

But Noctis doesn’t move. She shuts her eyes so she doesn’t have to watch her tears land on the plastic mat.  

“Get up,” the older teen says. 

Noctis shakes her head, choking back a sob. Gladiolus grunts from above her. 

“Are you hurt?” she asks. 

“No,” Noctis manages, but it’s a lie. She hurts all over. Her mouth tastes like blood and now her face stings where she scrubs at her traitorous tears. 

“Then what’s this pitiful display for?” 

Noctis sits back on her heels, facing Gladiolus who still stands sword in hand, looking put off by her behavior. Noctis doesn’t feel smart  _ or  _ strong, and where she stands tall and calculating on the mat, Gladiolus looks both. Noctis feels mortified, but still the tears will not stop and she has to bury her face in her hands once more to muffle the sounds of her distress. 

“Go ahead!” Noctis cries. “Say it! I know you want to!”   


“Say what?” Gladiolus asks. 

“Tell me I’m weak!” Noctis says into her hands, shaking her head.

Gladiolus huffs to herself, squatting in front of Noctis, trying to peer around the curtain of her hands to see her face.

“I don’t think you’re weak,” she says. “I think all girls are strong.”

Slowly, Noctis lowers her hands and meets Gladiolus’ eyes, and for as long as Noctis looks into the bright amber, she is sure Gladiolus is seeing right through her. She puts her hand out and Noctis stares at it skeptically for a moment before reaching out and taking it. The towering woman hauls her to her feet one handed like she’s a ragdoll. Noctis stares up at her in disbelief and in that moment, the older teen is everything Noctis wants to be. 

“But you  _ do  _ have a lot to learn,” Gladiolus says, “before you’re the Queen.” 

“Then teach me!” Noctis blurts out, still gripping Gladiolus’ hand in hers. 

“Ha,” she laughs, pulling her into a one-armed hug. “That’s what I’m here for.” 

She shoves Noctis back onto the center of the mat and points her wooden sword in the princess’ direction. Noctis stumbles before she manages to plant her feet and raise her weapon. Gladiolus smirks at her. 

“Again.” 

-

That night, Noctis kneels on her bathroom sink. She examines her naked body in the mirror, fingers prodding gently at the bruises that have just begun to bloom across warm swollen sword welts and skinned knees. Tender, physical reminders that she has a lot to learn,  _ is learning. _

Gladiolus is going to teach her how to stay on her feet. 

Noctis fishes a pair of scissors for the drawer and with shaky, eager hands, she cuts her hair short and choppy, letting long dark locks fall across the countertop and floor. 

She falls asleep with her hands in her hair. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! ^^
> 
> come yell at me on twitter @taketheblanket
> 
> this drabble will be a part of an ongoing series checking in on dfab gladnoct throughout the years


End file.
